I Know (By the Timing and the Color of His Eyes)
by Fierce.Of.Mind
Summary: During his imprisonment Grindelwald stole away Grave's SoulMark. It's gone and so is any chance of the director finding his Destined. No matter how hard he tries he can't remember its shape or color- all that remains is a horrible scar. Grave's will never know who his soulmate is. Then he meets a man with the most fascinating green eyes...


**A.N.~ Disclaimer: I do not own FBaWTFT, this is just for fun.**

 **To Clarify:**  
 **-Soul Mates have matching SoulMarks and are called each other's Destined**  
 **-When one of the pair dies the Mark disappears**  
 **-Marks have a unique shape and color**  
 **-Whether someone can be born w/o a SoulMark or whether they can get one after their Soul Mate is born is not relevant for this story**

They found him locked in a battered trunk in his own apartment. Inside it was a huge dungeon-like cell dark and perpetually cold. There were various torture devices around the space that the MACUSA Aurors could barely look at without feeling crippling waves of rage and guilt.  
Percival Graves was hanging limply in the center of the room covered in blood and dirt and other questionable substances. Many who were part of the retrieval squad wanted to turn away their stomachs queasy from the sight and smell, but they stood firm. It was the least they could do for their Director who they all knew they had failed horribly.

He was stripped bare, and Tina noticed she could count each of his ribs as she cautiously approached him. He had not twitched at their arrival and she was afraid they had made it too late.

"Mr. Graves," she quietly called trying not to startle him.

Finally he moved- his head slowly lifting and the Aurors felt relief rush through them even as they kept their wands raised on alert for any traps the Dark Lord might have left behind.

"Mr. Graves! It's me, Tina-" She cut off with a gasp echoed around the room by her comrades.

Because on the junction between neck and left shoulder where there should have been a unique SoulMark that in all the world would only have one match (where they all knew there should have been a mark thanks to workplace gossip) there was a horrible scar. The skin looked red and inflamed like a fresh burn.

They all knew it was only the darkest magic that could interfere or damage a SoulMark. To deface something so sacred was the most taboo act a person could commit. Even no-majs had marks, it was the one spark of magic they possessed.

Had Grindelwald really sunk so low?

Looking into Mr. Graves eyes and seeing the broken despair there Tina knew they would not be able to magically fix this.

* * *

Mr. Graves returned to work six months after his rescue. Even President Picquery couldn't convince him to take more time off. He tried to act the same but inevitably things could not go back to the way they were before.

Whispers followed him down the halls of MACUSA usually followed by pitying or distrustful looks. Words like "SoulMark" and "Grindelwald" said often and not quietly enough. Those of the Auror department were always quick to glare the gossipers into silence when they were near. The senior Aurors were especially protective, and the heaviest nay-sayers soon learned to shut up or find themselves buried under fines for the smallest infractions.

Mr. Graves was more strict than before. Every report was to be perfect. Every case from his time in captivity was reviewed, thrice. He stayed late at the department and was always the first to arrive. He no longer stopped to chat with his senior Aurors and didn't join them for drinks on Friday nights like he used to.

The shadows under his eyes never disappeared, but none of them could voice their concern. Fontaine almost lost his head when he asked if the Director was alright. He spent the next day buried under reports. There was an emptiness in Mr. Graves's gaze that made all their hearts ache. The Aurors were very careful to never show pity and everyone worked twice as hard. They would never forgive themselves for not noticing that their boss was being impersonated; that he had been locked away for months in his own home due to their inadequacy.

* * *

 _Grindelwald slowly approached the man hanging in the center of the room. He steps echoed off the walls and he enjoyed the slight shivers that shook his prisoner's frame. Whether from the fear or the cold he didn't really care._

 _The Dark Lord reached out and grasped the greasy black and grey locks and yanked pulling until he could see the eyes of his victim- even after all this time still burning with defiance. The blond man smirked finding such paltry resistance amusing. Breaking his prisoners was half the fun, and after today well..._

 _"Percival, Percival, Percival," he slowly tsked, "Have I not told you before how rude it is not to greet your host?"_

 _The Director of Magical Security simply glared having learned early on that it was better not to respond. Grindelwald had killed one of his Aurors as retaliation last time._

 _The Dark Lord merely laughed, "Oh, do not be like that Percival. Our time together is almost over."_

 _Mr. Graves practically snarled- the first sound he'd uttered since other's entrance._

 _"Shhhh,Shhh," Grindelwald said a gentle smile ghosting on his lips and unnerving his captive, "I will keep my word, and once I have what I want you will be released."_

 _The Dark Lord's smile turned truly malicious, "However, what kind of host would I be if I did not leave you with a parting gift?"_

 _His other hand came up and slowly caressed the Mark on Graves's skin._  
 _The man in question flinched back and for the first time since his capture pleaded with the mad man in front of him._

 _"N-no," he croaked, voice hoarse from previous screams._ _Grindelwald's grin widened showing all his teeth with a maniac gleam._

 _"Oh, but, Percival, I have been researching the perfect curse for my goodbye present. I had to dig through hundreds of ancient tomes. What I wanted was quite obscure. You would not want to have wasted all my efforts? Would you," he said grip bruising._

 _"Please," Mr. Graves begged desperation clouding his voice._

 _Grindelwald laughed, "I knew I would one day have you begging before me, and you do not even know the full extent of it. Shall I explain?"_

 _Mr. Graves shook his head as much as he could with the German man's grip on his hair, "Don't-"_

 _The Dark Lord continued on gleefully, as if presenting a lecture, "In common terms it is called Soul Erasure or the Rasura curse. It was developed by the Egyptians for use against the invading Roman soldiers to strike at the moral of the army, and is rumored to be how Cleopatra managed to seduce Mark Antony. Rather simply it will erase your Mark from you and your Destined."_

 _Graves let out a tormented denial for which Grindelwald harshly backhanded him and then resumed his explanation the sadistic smile never faltering._

 _"But this curse will do so much more than that. It will not just erase the Mark from your skin, but from your mind as well. You will not be able to recall its shape or color. You could look at a picture of it and know it as yours, but as soon as you look away you will forget."_

 _Graves was shaking in horror. If it weren't for the suppressing bands tight around his wrists he would have killed the man before him- as it was his magic was whirling chaotically inside him urgently trying to break free to stop this._

 _"And the best part," Grindelwald said reveling in the effects of his words, "your soulmate will assume you have died. They will mourn and eventually move on. You will never know them. They will be lost to you. It could be anyone you pass in the street and you would not know. There will be no warm feelings or magical tingles to alert you. They could die at any time and you would not know. Until the day you die you will never know!"_

 _The Dark Lord watched as the man before him panicked. Perhaps this would be the thing to finally break the Director._  
 _He watched Graves's struggles a bit more before slowly raising his wand so that the captured man could see it, "Well now, this is going to hurt, just a little."_

* * *

Tina was worried. It had been almost two years since the Grindelwald fiasco, and there was still something in Mr. Graves that was broken- no- lost.  
She blamed herself more harshly than the others. She had been Mr. Graves's trainee. He was her mentor and she should have been able to recognize an impostor had taken his place, but she didn't. It took a stranger to notice! (Even if Newt was now a close friend- it should have been her.)

Mr. Graves seemed recovered. His case success rate was at an all time high, his work efficiency was never better, but he was empty. He bantered with the senior Aurors again, but sometimes it fell flat. Once when Queenie had visited her with some of Jacob's pastries (thank heavens they were Destined and not even MACUSA law would interfere with that) Mr. Graves had passed by and her sister had gasped and given the man such a mournful look. She had refused to elaborate, and Mr. Graves avoided Queenie afterwards.

Tina herself had seen the Director staring intently at something in his pocket-watch as if memorizing what ever it was only for the man look away and suddenly his expression would fall into despair and grief so profound she could no longer look at him.

It couldn't go on she knew, watching her boss prowl down the aisle between the Auror's desks and into his office, something had to give.

That was the day Newt Scamander returned to New York carrying a familiar case and a copy of his new book.

* * *

As soon as Director Graves saw the figure standing next to Tina's desk wearing a blue coat with a case in one hand and waving a book in the other he recognized him. Newt Scamander, he surmised, having read all the reports on Grindelwald's capture in which Mr. Scamander was featured.

This was the man who recognized that he was not himself. The man he hadn't had a chance to meet or thank. Steeling himself, Graves walked over to do just that. Tina noticed him first and stood at attention just as he reached a polite distance away. Mr. Scamander, noticing his friend's distraction hunched in on himself and slowly turned around eyes never quite settling.

An awkward silence stretched before them as the Magizoologist resolutely kept his gaze anywhere but on the Director. His hand was tight around his case and somehow his shoulders managed to scrunch down even further. The Director studied the man comparing what he was seeing to the photos he'd seen before. Mr. Scamader had a mop of curly, coppery hair which looked to be a bit longer than what it was in the photos. His blue coat was exactly the same if a bit more worn.

Finally, Graves could take the silence no more and extended his hand, "You must be Mr. Scamander. Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security. Pleasure to finally meet you."

Mr. Scamander jumped at the sound of his voice and a blush spread from his ears down his neck.

"Ah- yes- right," the man before him shifted and for a moment Graves thought he was going to actually run away when he simply tucked the book he was holding under his blue clad arm and grasped Graves's hand in a surprisingly firm handshake.

"Please, just call me Newt, Director Graves," he spoke in a polite British accent, "Mr. Scamander makes people think of my brother. And it is nice to finally meet the real you- uh- I mean…"

"Right, uh, Newt," Graves responded after the other had trailed off. He was feeling oddly flustered, "Then I insist you call me Percival, and must offer you my sincerest thanks for your actions a couple of years ago."

He still hadn't released Newt's hand and found himself unwilling to do so. Tina stood in the background watching their interaction with veiled shock.

"Percival- um- I think I was just in the right place at the right time," Newt responded. He still hadn't looked at the Director. Graves suddenly wanted to see his eyes even if he knew them from the picture attached to the Grindelwald report. He couldn't explain it- he needed to look into those eyes and map their color to see if a photo could do them any justice.

He shook the strange feeling away and finally released Newt's hand who snatched it back as if it burned. Graves cleared his throat to try and ease the tension, "Well, it was nice to meet you but I must be going."

He gave a quick nod to Tina before turning around to make a swift escape. He got all the way to the door of his office before he gave into the urge to glance behind him. Newt was still standing near Tina's desk looking a little lost in thought.

Without even thinking he called out, "Newt," gaining the man's attention (as well as that of all the Aurors in the department).  
For a lightning quick moment those green eyes met his before settling on a spot over his shoulder. Graves felt like he had been struck by lightning and his magic was going wild. It gave him the strength to spit out his next words.

"How about dinner tonight? To celebrate your return to New York," when he saw that Newt was about to protest he plowed on, "And as a personal thank you. I'll collect you at seven o'clock sharp." His last view as he turned was of Tina rapidly staring between the two men, and to his slight amusement actually pinching herself as if to make sure this all wasn't a dream. He entered his office, shutting the door without waiting for a response.

For a moment he just stood there shocked. What had gotten into him? In his mind he could remember that instant where Newt's gaze met his and he saw that familiar green he swore he's never seen before.

Maybe, he thought moving to sit behind his desk, this could be the start of a friendship.

* * *

It was the start of a crush. Newt Scamander was smart and kind and passionate about his creatures. The man was forever chasing after his Niffler and causing a ruckus. For all the trouble he caused Graves couldn't help but smile every time he saw the Magizoologist. He found himself doing things just to get a smile from the man- to have Newt looking at him. He gave the brit a permit for all his creatures. When the Niffler stole his pocket-watch he let the creature keep it. He convinced Picquery to offer Newt a job as MACUSA's consultant for magical beasts- citing that he would provide valuable insight.

Newt accepted, and most importantly he stayed. Graves found himself smiling more easily. Nightmares that had plagued him for years were replaced with Newt's smile or laugh. His favorite dream had been the one with him and the other man sitting in Newt's case just staring at each other over a picnic of oddly shaped pastries- the other's green eyes never looking away from Graves's. It was his favorite color now.

It all came crashing down when he saw Newt rubbing at the place his SoulMark would be. How could he have forgotten. Newt was probably waiting for his Destined, and Graves was just a friend. He was too broken to be anything else. He almost gave a bitter laugh. His Destined had probably moved on already, or, he thought with an ache, they were already dead. Graves didn't know. Graves would never know.

He shook his head, and with an iron will pushed those echoes of Grindelwald away. Either way, he remembered now that Newt wasn't his. He couldn't keep Newt from finding his Destined. Of anyone Graves knew the Magizoologist deserved to find his soulmate most, and so he took a step back. He denied all of Newt's offers for lunch or dinner or to help out. He stopped the chats, and only interacted with the man for cases. He ignored the hurt looks from Newt and the wary looks from his Aurors because this was for the best. He had to keep his distance. Graves put a wall around his feelings and soldiered on, for Newt.

Then some hot-shot, poaching ring decided to kidnap MACUSA's resident Magizoologist.

* * *

Graves mobilized every available auror. They tracked down the poachers to their hideout in record time. The Director of Magical Security tore down the wards himself and apparated into the warehouse with three squadrons of MACUSA's best and brightest just in time to see Newt tied to a post, shirtless, with one of those low-lives standing behind him a whip in his hand, raised and ready to strike.

Graves didn't even think. His magic lashed out and wandlessly knocked the man away, into a wall. His Aurors took care of the rest while he rushed to Newt's side and quickly released him- catching the man when he fell- unable to hold himself up.

He cradled the Magizoologist protectively equal parts relieved and furious. Surprisingly, the british man didn't push him away, and Graves allowed himself to indulge for the moment confident that his men and women could handle the riffraff.

Suddenly, he heard a mumble of, "my case" before Newt was sitting up straight and frantically looking around the warehouse (yet for some reason he still didn't leave the other's embrace- not that the Director was complaining). But Graves couldn't concentrate on Newt's words for his gaze was captured on that place between neck and shoulder. It was clear.

Newt finally spotted his case being handled by a protective Tina and turned his attention back to the man who had suddenly gone rigid around him. He realized what Graves was staring at and quickly covered the spot, but he knew it was too late. The Director would know that they were not a match. Maybe, a small part of Newt thought, maybe he already knew and that was why he has been putting distance between them.

"My-" Newt spoke to break the heavy silence between them, "my Mark… It disappeared shortly before I came to New York… the first time. They- whoever… Whoever they were- died before I could meet them."

He continued to ramble when the man before him remained silent and stiff, "I-It was a little bowtruckle, my mark- a little green bowtruckle with tiny brown eyes. One of the reasons I became a magizoologist was- um- Theseus, my brother, he said that my mark said something about myself and my D-destined. Bowtruckles are really protective you see. Fiercely guarding their hometree. Its why I have a hard time not carrying Pickett around- feels like I've got a bit of my mark back, um. Besides he really does have strong attachment issues..."

Graves wasn't really paying much attention to the other man's words his mind had gone blank. Newt's SoulMark was gone- had disappeared around the same time that Grindelwald had cursed his. And suddenly he knew. Knew that his Destined was alive. Knew that he was holding him at this moment. And so he did the first thing that came to his mind. He kissed him. One hand going tight around Newt's waist, the other tangling gently into coppery hair.

Newt froze for a moment before eagerly returning his affections, and when they finally broke apart Graves rested his forehead on the other's while they both caught their breath. In the background the Aurors were restraining all the poachers and apparating them to MACUSA's dungeons. Tina was standing a bit away shifting from foot to foot and holding Newt's case while pretending to be busy watching the arrests.

Finally, Newt pulled back looking flustered and confused, but there in his green eyes was a spark of hope.

"I… I don't-"

Graves cut him off with a gentle smile, "I know."


End file.
